The Ashes of Wonderland
by dosei no otohime
Summary: A girl, whose past is that of twisting labrinths, must face Tokyo3. Alone. Her destiny has changed and she sees the cruel secrets that this life holds for her, as well as the selfinflicted darkness of the people around her. PART 4 FINALLY UPLOADED!
1. The White Moth

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The Ashes of Wonderland

Part 1

The White Moth

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Mist flows out from between trees

And shakes the spines of beaten leaves

It was spring.

It had always been spring. She remembered only the spring at this time, April second-handed over and over, but she knew the tiny bites of snowflakes on naked fingers. She had seen the blood smeared on all the leaves of autumn, yet she didn't truly remember them. Could she consider the others, whose memories she fed upon, to be separate entities? To be different people other than herself? Too many times had the memories and body been recycled in order to protect this world.

Now she was alone.

Alone, with the night.

The night had never bothered her. It was just the isolation of the darkness.

She placed a lock of raven feather hair behind her ear so that the wind would not bring it into her mouth or let it stick to her lips, ones that shimmered in the dim light of the vehicle. That was one of the bothers of traveling by car with the windows down. Violet eyes caught the white line as it coursed along the side of the road. Occasionally, she would hear the chirp of a cicada along the route. It would shriek out once as she passed by and then reach after her with its sound, as if trying to take her back with it into the darkness. It never succeeded. The black wheels seemed to make sure of that with their gallant speed towards their destination.

The glossy shell of the taxi was misleading to the inside of the cab. From the moment she had stepped inside until the windows were rolled down, the dank smell of old vomit stains rose up from the carpeted interior. She was glad that the seats were stiff fake leather, as open and scarred with duct tape as they were. She wouldn't be haunted with the horror of accidentally sitting where stains had settled, where the center of the seat would be still wet with illness. The seats stuck to the back of her thighs and knees with the sweat and humidity of the evening. That wasn't the only thing that stuck to them; the driver had let out an ecstatic murmur as she had gotten in. She had noticed him running his eyes over her ivory legs and frayed black shorts, ones that were well beyond the penalty marker at any public school, no doubt. She hid her blush, one of embarrassment and resentment, in the dim light and the hood of her midnight-colored felt coat. An aging man, who smelled of acrid cigar smoke, need not inspect a fifteen-year-old body during the night.

The whipping air was cool though, and her calves managed saving from sticky seats and sticky eyes through her knee-high boots. The winds pushed at her hair and hood. She closed her eyes and smiled a little. She was glad for the open air. It cooled the silver cross, one that slipped nicely into the cradle of her breasts and hung by a thin chain around her neck. She reached for it and caressed it with her thumb.

The edge of the city approached, and so the open fields began to disappear, replacing broken pavement with yellow lines and turn-off lanes. She thrust her eyes into the night, with a feeling that, somehow, she would most likely never see this place again. The fireflies danced with the freedom from old industry life that had filled everything before the new millennium. They were not choked out on fumes and garbage. However, they did not risk fluttering past the invisible line that separated the countryside and the outskirts of the city.

She was the only one that dared.

She was ready to be alone this time. None of the others had surfaced, and maybe they weren't coming back with her. Maybe she was the only one who wasn't tired of dying yet.

The old leaves danced along the road and the live ones swayed as they were attached to their mother in the sweeping wind.

The cab jolted suddenly and her entire body was thrust forward, but her muscles helped her maintain her sitting position. The driver let out an exclamation of surprise.

"I always seem to forget that's there," he said, his voice controlling shaking, but still revealing his accent, "But I barely travel this route anymore." He looked at her from the front seat with the rear-view mirror, perhaps to see if his passenger accepted the excuse.

"So what are you doing going to Tokyo-3 in the first place?"

She was silent for a moment. The personal question had startled her, but it shouldn't have surprised her, since he did seem to find interest in her. A small smile appeared. "I'm going home," she said quietly. The driver gave a little laugh. "You'll be lucky if you find it, miss. Haven't you heard the stories about that place? Monster stories and shit." She saw him look at her nervously after the last word. So he _was_ aware of her age.

"Yeah, I've heard of them."

He laughed a little again. "Sounds like some old Godzilla movie doesn't it?" he said and then smiled big. "Watch out! Godzilla's heading straight for Tokyo Bay!" he mocked and then let out a muffled roar, one that sounded more like a dying bird than the infamous giant lizard. A small giggle came from the backseat. He gave a toothy grin as he peered back at his passenger. His smile was that of one who had done little and still won first prize in the county fair. His eyes flickered back and forth between the form in the backseat and the road ahead for the rest of the drive.

Her thoughts wandered. This was the third time she had been in Tokyo, and this wasn't even the real city. It was a fabrication, a cold palace made of steel and cables that were torn from memories and pasted here and there across a map to replicate something from the past. They hadn't done well at copying it, though. It no longer held the places she had known so many times before. It hardly held anything any more. She could see the large lakes that weren't naturally formed, and she could see the remains of buildings as they peaked up along the water. This was a horrible painting of Tokyo. She hated it. She deserved it though, for not being able to aid as the creature erupted from the ice and swallowed their lives whole, along with half of humanity. The blessings they all shared had not been able to save them in the mouth of Hell.

A flicker of golden webbed wings in her mind.

A wail against the roar in her ears.

The ice beneath her gloved fingertips.

The inevitable snap of bone.

She shook her head of old images and musty sounds that she knew were her own, but never really belonged to her. They were borrowed. The thoughts made her chest take a dive, and so she focused on the dim lights and the approaching frequency of housing as they reached the outskirts of town, where she was going. A distraction from the chronic noise in her head.

The rest of the ride passed without words or focused thoughts. Soon, her feet touched down on cement sidewalks as she opened the door. "Hey sweetheart," the cabbie said as she reached in to retrieve her bag, "you can ride with me anytime." Then he winked, making a clicking sound with his teeth, as he eyed her. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders in an attempt to mask her gender and perhaps become a eunuch to this man. His grin seemed to only spread further, mimic-playing the Cheshire Cat. The door closed and the only other person who knew she existed on this street left her with an engine's rumble in the wake of a swift departure.

As the sound faded into the distance, she couldn't help but feel alone. She tossed a gaze toward the sky, asking a question with no words. The full moon stared down the sky. Unconsciously, she picked out the eyes and laughing mouth of the Man in the Moon. The moon…

Golden hair against white satin and lace.

Slender hands twisting pearls.

She frowned at her constancy to pick out all the bad memories and allow them to devour her whole. Quickly, as if to run away, she picked up her bag and headed toward the door, sprinting.

She took the elevator up.

Quietness slid across the hallways like a slow-moving blanket, and the shoes on her feet seemed to be the imps of it all, ready to kill the silence she loved. She remembered the number of her door. It would be the first time she had ever seen it, and not even a jumble of leftovers could tell her otherwise.

She found it and slid in the keycard. The door whisked open and she stepped into the darkened hall quickly, her feet murdering the quiet at the last possible moment.

She didn't turn on the light, and instead, navigated by the light that let itself in through naked panes of glass. She tossed her bag in a chair, and swerved to dodge any of the boxes on the floor. There happened to be few, but they were painful to the shins and knees, nonetheless.

She felt the urge to shower and clean away the dirt of traveling, but the sleep was pressing upon her eyes. She yawned, stretching her arms out and above her head. She knelt down to one of the boxes and pulled at a cord and finding the end and the object she had wanted. She sat down, crossing her legs in front of her. She yawned again.

The cord met socket moments later and the room became illuminated in soft yellow light. She squinted at the lettering along boxes for the right one until she found what she was looking for, and from there she pulled out blankets to sleep on. The unfolding and spreading of the blankets was a quick action. She was tired, and this would have to do. She started school in the morning.

Across from her, were three clothes hangers. Each one held a different piece of clothing. One, a white shirt, another a sea green skirt, and the last, a pair of socks. On the floor beneath them was a pair of dark Mary-Jane shoes. She stared into the darkness at each of them. The moonlight lit them and produced warped visions of what they were.

Her stomach squirmed suddenly in anticipation of the morning. Tomorrow would mean a new destiny. She closed her eyes and let a light sigh escape her lips. The rebirth had brought her into a new realm of dogma, where people evaded and boarded up certain gates of destiny. They avoided paths and avoided people. She had wanted to find another so innocent, another friend like before, that laughed like before, that loved like before. But the Second Impact wouldn't let her. Everything was stained now. Everything was dirty.

Even her own hands were soiled.

Her trip back to Tokyo wasn't one of reminiscence. She was sent here for a purpose. She was a replacement. What was the initial thing she was sent to substitute? Why was she here? Why had she returned? She grew aggravated at remembering the words of the old man on the telephone, the one who coaxed her back into Tokyo with the promise of answers. Answers to what questions? Of why we exist? Why we are burdened with the loneliness of apocalypse? Why this city is so much more tainted than when she last left it? She hated this city. She hugged a pillow to her chest. She felt so bitter, and such a feeling was unpleasant, even if it was justified.

A gentle tinking sounded out from the lamp. She turned her eyes towards it. Somehow, a small white moth had gotten into the room, and was hitting its head again the light's bulb.

"Don't you know the light will burn you?" she asked.

The moth knocked its head against the bulb again as if to reply. Its wings fluttered noisily.

"Aren't you afraid of being hurt?"

The wings beat against the air recklessly along the lining of the lampshade.

Pity filled the eyes of the girl who watched the moth. "You don't like being hurt, do you?" she said. The moth caught hold of the shade, and its wings quivered as it took shaky Lilliputian steps along the cloth. She sat up.

"None of us really do, like pain that is."

She reached out towards the moth.

"I won't let you feel pain any longer."

She flicked the switch off and the room was suddenly dark again. She lay back down on the blankets and covered herself up. She smiled in the darkness. "I wish I could do that for myself, but I can't. I will always be alone. My solitude ensures the safety of humanity," she said and closed her eyes. A thought came forth and bubbled along the crease of her brain before she drifted off to sleep.

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You ensure the safety of mankind, _or its destruction_.

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Which?

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Which will you choose Hotaru?

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Author's Notes:

For readers to understand the flow of the story: this takes place between episode 23 and End of Evangelion, with a twist that is beneficial for writing. It takes the character Hotaru Tomoe from Sailor Moon and puts her in the Evangelion story line, and I've been careful as to how I place her.

The lines of poem at the beginning of each chapter are parts to a poem called "Suffocating Alice." The poem can be found in its entirety in my Fiction Press account, and, therefore, belongs solely to me. The title of this story is also the title of my live-journal, which is solely mine as well.

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Song listened to while writing: Deftones – Change (In The House of Flies)


	2. Whisper Upon Blood

The Ashes of Wonderland Part 2 

**Whisper Upon Blood**

_Tonight, the moon hangs down and dim_

_And filters blood from outside in_

Inside a darkened room, thirteen people hid behind shadows marked with crimson letters and numbers, revealing nothing of who they were and masking a physical form. However, their spoken words were not concealed.

"_The arrangement has been established. There are only a few steps remaining before final commencement."_

"_This is not the Lance, but it shall do in its stead."_

"_We cannot rely on Ikari any longer."_

"_Correct. In addition, this must played according to our rules; ours, not Ikari's."_

"_That is true. This must not be lead by Ikari's hand, unlike the pilot of Unit 00."_

"_Yes, and that pilot's allegiance is the reason behind the new path."_

"_That mistake must not be repeated. Interactions with that child must be monitored."_

"_Yes. Moreover, it must be controlled in order for the hope to reveal itself in the light of undoubted destruction."_

"_Agreed. Being that we can no longer rely on NERV to follow the set path, this scenario shall not be discussed outside of this channel. Actions must be taken in order that it will commence as we predict with no differentiation to the actions taken to achieve it. I trust that this conference will be kept confidential."_

The shadows faded suddenly, leaving the last words to echo unto nothingness.

Why was the room empty?

Sun glinted in through all the windows; save one, which had the dirtied blind pulled down, the cord dangling down the wall to the floor.

Why was the room empty?

It was lined neatly with wooden desks made for studying, but they were abandoned. No one sat in these chairs. An old man sat behind the teacher's desk, noisily flipping through a magazine but not taking notice of her. Hotaru felt awkward in the silence, for the first time. She had expected others to be here. She leaned against the edge of a desk, her skirt rustling, and her eyes wandered in anticipation of another entering the room.

Where was the laughter of school children?

Once it had been their laughter that she had feared. At one point she had cringed over smiles and tucked away her own in order to escape vulnerability. They had made fun of her gift. They had pulled away from her hands, said she caused bandages, called her a liar when she didn't remember. But that was not her. That was the first body who recalled such a thing, the one whom had been infected with the parasitic claws of that woman.

Where were the children?

Oh… she had nearly forgotten.

This was the place where the giants came. No parents would want their child to be in danger of death, and wasting their life in a school while the threat was posed. Though education would be a proper thing to have, most mothers and fathers would like the child to be dumb and alive, rather than smart and dead. Besides, there was no place to live. Most of the buildings had been destroyed as of late.

There was no purpose to staying here. It would bring no hope to empty desks, no smiles to ghosts of faces.

She left the room. She turned out the door and around the corner of the exit. The school was now outdated, and a place which she wished to not stay. The bell chimed the hour as she exited the schoolyard, pulling at her ankles but receiving no reply.

An odd feeling settled in her shoulders, as if she felt the heat of another body near her own. However, she found that wasn't the case as she stopped and looked over her shoulder. She glanced around her before turning on her second-hand shoes.

She let her hands fall away from her face, laying the eye pencil on the dresser. Now, her makeup was dark along her eyes, thick eyeliner, and mascara lining curled lashes. She liked it that way, for it brought contrast to her fair skin. She sat simply in front of the mirror with her hands clasped in her lap. Her clothes had been changed, and now there appeared to be a frame of black around her face, starting at the line of her bangs and running round the velvet collar to, just below her collarbone, her black spaghetti-strap shirt. Her socks were mauve, coming midway up her calves. She wore the same shorts from the night before.

She stood up, again taking notice of the full cardboard boxes in the rooms. She was feeling lazy, and even though she didn't feel that Tokyo was the last place that she was going to stay, she wasn't about to let the boxes sit there for an eternity.

Using her heels and swift leg movements, she tugged at her socks, pulling them off from her toes and kicking them toward her makeshift bedding from the night before, a useless thing now that her bed had been set up and made. Her toenails were naked and the air felt good between her toes as she lightly made her way across the room. She plopped down on the floor, yanking at cardboard flaps and digging her hands into box contents. She was placing a toaster onto the floor when something caught her eye.

She stared at the floor near the lamp. The tiny moth was on the carpet. It did not move. Hotaru leaned over, looking closely at the little insect on the floor. She breathed on it softly. It did not move.

The moth had died.

Her forehead creased as she tried to understand why it had died, and why she felt sorry for such a small form of life. She had removed its fear and pain, and then it died. Why?

She cupped the moth in her hands gently and stood up. Hotaru watched the moth for any sign of life, even a struggling one, but found none. She lay it down on the window sill. She could cease pain, heal wounds, however, she could not erase death.

The white sheer curtains did a slow waltz as the wind gently laid a hand on their hips and swayed with them; their dancing partner. Hotaru stood there, barefoot, her hands at her sides. She was not paying attention to the dance, nor was she paying attention to the street below or the light traffic or the clicking of the stoplight.

Now this was another place which she did not wish to be.

Hotaru briskly made her way to the door and put on her shoes. She had to get away from the vacancy and death in empty rooms. The door opened, but not quickly enough. Her feet darted up and down on the floor of the open hallway that wound round the building, and then down the stairs.

Strangers lined the streets. No one to speak to and no one to care. All were apathetic strangers to her. She shoved her hands in her pockets and pulled her shoulders inwards. Her sneakers padded along the sidewalk in a steady rhythm.

She stopped in front of a small convenience store. The glass windows reflected back a ghost.

A sound caught her ears.

A child's laughter.

Sweet scent upon the air, like honeysuckle blooms and cherries.

Her heart rose to the surface of her skin and she swirled around before she could stop herself.

She knew it wasn't going to be her. She knew it and still she had hoped and achieved a flicker of a dream. But the little girl was not her. The girl belonged to a middle-aged mother, with whom she shared the same hair color, an auburn shade. This was not her. Hotaru had reached out for the memory of strawberry ice-cream colored hair with all her might, but could not summon it into reality. Her friend was not going to be here today, or even tomorrow.

Frustrated in her disappointment, she yanked open the door to the store, thrusting herself inside and rushing to the very back, the furthest away from the little girl and her mother as possible at this point.

"Hey! Watch out! I just mopped!"

The cry hit the air too late. With a loud squeak, Hotaru's sneakers were already sliding across the linoleum. She let out a shriek and tried to brace her fall with her arms. Her right foot shot out and caused her to fall to her side, sliding across the floor.

Her legs collided and tangled themselves with another set of limbs, sending a body tumbling onto the floor, palms smacking against linoleum to break the fall. One hand landed in front of her waist, the other behind her back, the torso of the other person perpendicular to her own. The warmth of the arms was soon removed, with a soft groan of pain from the owner. Hotaru opened her eyes and saw white shoes.

Attached to the shoes was the body of a boy. Dark hair cut short just above his eyes. They were blue, and squinted with pain. White shirt. Black pants.

"Sorry…" he mumbled as he finally stood to his full height.

"No… my fault… sorry," she said and stood up. She looked at him. He didn't really seem to acknowledge that she had fallen, almost as if the action had been erased. He seemed indulged in swirled inner feelings and thoughts. He flicked his eyes upward in a fashion that was almost curious in mannerism. She suddenly averted her eyes with the blush filling her cheeks to the brim. "Sorry," she said again and turned away. She didn't want to be near him any longer. Her feet went to another aisle. He had seen her in a tossing, a revealing fault of not being able to keep balance on slippery floors. It was irrelevant, however it caused her embarrassment. She didn't like anyone to see her without grace and kindness, and mostly power. The last was saved only for the ones who deserved to see their own deaths.

Why did she take those thoughts lightly?

Death was nothing to her.

She was repulsed by the nothing she felt for it.

The detergent shelf seemed to cry out selection with the bright labels and colors adorning each box. The aisle smelled nice. It smelled clean. Her shoulder burned in the artificially cooled air. She rubbed it softly, finding soothing warmth from her own fingertips. Her thoughts went back to the boy. She cursed inside her skin. He had been her age and she had made a fool of herself in front of him! She would never make any friends in Tokyo at the rate she was progressing. She wasn't in the swirling steel city to make friends, though.

But why was she here?

Why had she listened to the man on the other line?

His tongue had clicked against his teeth and formed words. She had heard those syllables, and hated them, and yet she obeyed them.

Obeyed!

She obeyed the voice as if it had been someone she respected and cared for, but the rasp was not in memory! It was not locked in any of them!

She scowled at the detergent boxes. She did not like this place. She hated this place. She hated the boy. She hated the store. She hated the cashier. They did not resemble anything she remembered from before. Her robins had vanished with the wind, splinters of red ribbon running down the sky in their murder. She was alone here.

She was alone.

And she hated it.

The sharp gnarled hands took a twist in her chest, grinding their oozing skin inside hers, squeezing her heart as one would a sponge to let the pain pool throughout the entirety of herself.

Her exit of the store was brisk, and she continued running away from the places she hated. She ran from the boy. She ran from the clean smell of the detergent aisle. She ran from the man on the telephone. She ran from the frail body of the dead moth.

And, all the time she was running, a single thought coursed through her.

_What am I to find here_?

No one welcomed her back when she turned the key again and opened her door. She was alone here. An ache settled lightly inside her ribs and this demon felt content there and so there it stayed, to become warm with her pulse and blood.

The telephone rang and she was startled by the sudden sound against the walls.

Her hand plucked up the cool black body and brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Greetings."

It was the same voice as before. "I trust you made it to Tokyo-3 safely," he said, and she could hear a light wheeze after the words, as if he was old and struggled to breathe, relying on machinery to keep him alive.

"Yes, I did," she answered.

"You didn't attend your school."

Hotaru narrowed her eyes with the realization that someone was monitoring her.

"There was no one else there."

"Knowing your location, I could safely tell you that such an occurrence is not a strange one."

Hotaru raised an eyebrow.

"Why did you tell me to come here?" she asked.

"Your presence was specifically requested."

"But why?" Her voice was raising in volume, stressing the second word; her impatience clouding judgment. Hotaru could almost hear him smirk through the telephone. "Why did you come? Did you not feel a need to return to this place you lived so many lives before this one?" he said, the signature wheeze following his words once more.

Hotaru's violet eyes spread wide and her heart suddenly trembled in its beats.

"We know many things about you, Hotaru Tomoe. We've known about you for sometime; what you were, what you are. However, your destiny has taken a new path."

Hotaru regained her words. "New path? What do you mean?" she said with suspicion in her tone.

"All will be revealed in due time," the voice nearly snapped before becoming formal, "At precisely 8am tomorrow morning, a bell will ring. You must answer this bell and you will be escorted to a location. At this location, you will be briefed."

"Briefed?"

"You will be given the key to open the box to this reality and all the lies you have been told will vanish. Trust in us and your hopes and the erasure of loneliness shall be fulfilled. Does this appeal to you?"

There was a pause.

"And what if it doesn't? What if I like being lonely?"

"Then this conversation will have never existed. I would say that it never took place. All others who took part in this conversation will be terminated."  
"But the only ones who know about this are me and…"

"Exactly."

Another lock of silence.

"I trust you will answer the bell."

A click. Then a dial tone.

Hotaru let the receiver slip down into her lap and she chewed her lip.

**Author's notes**:

"Suffocating Alice" still belongs to me. 'Tis copyrighted through Fiction Press.

**Song(s) listened to while writing**:

Our Lady Peace – Thief

Smashing Pumpkins – Disarm 


	3. Dream Detachment

The Ashes of Wonderland 

**Part 3**

**Dream Detachment **

_Her words were always broken up_

_Spilled ice from baby's plastic cup_

She opened her eyes.

This place was not strange to her. It was simply a room, and nothing more. A room with a metal chair in the center, the walls glaringly bleach white and isolated. Lights lit the room from above. The one in the far corner flickered as it sputtered in a struggle to stay alive. The air was cold, her breath forming against it. She sat in the chair. It was chilling against her thighs. She pulled her legs together in an attempt to gather warmth within her revealing top and shorts, both as white as the room.

"Do you think that the guilt can be removed?"

She looked up sharply at the sound of a human voice.

A girl stood across the room from her. Her hands were on her hips. Twisted around the length of her arms was her straight black hair, flowing down to her slim hips and contrasting with the white outfit that she wore. Her mouth was twisted in a frown and brown eyes narrowed. Though a similar expression was worn during times of annoyance, this was far worse. Her cheeks were flushed and her neck muscles tight against her skin. Rage.

_Rei_.

"If you think that, then you need to fucking get real," she said.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Jesus, Hotaru! Get a fucking clue!"

It was the voice of a different girl, who appeared to the right of the first. Her dark blue hair was short and cut around her ears, curled under around the edges. She was dressed in the same pale outfit as Rei. Usually, her voice held soft and gentle tones, shy and friendly tones, but now, it was harsh and dirtied. Her tongue had now proven itself venomous.

_Ami_.

"You killed us, Hotaru!"

Hotaru's head snapped to the side. The small girl stood beside her, cotton-candy hair gleaming like it was freshly washed. Cherries. She held out her hand. Hotaru reached out to take it, her fingertips nearly touching the palm, when the wrist snapped back and the child's hand slapped across her cheek. She reached up and touched the inflamed flesh softly, feeling the heat rise to the top of the skin.

"You killed _me_, Hotaru," she said in her tender voice.

_Chibi-usa_.

Suddenly, hands grabbed Hotaru's shoulders, turning her face forward. Rei was bending over the girl. "You killed me!" she screamed and began shaking Hotaru.

"You killed me!"

The shaking grew worse, Rei's black hair flying over her shoulders and into her face.

"You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!"

Rei's fingers sunk into the younger girl's flesh. "You killed me!" she shrieked out, her voice breaking as she beat the girl against the chair's back.

"You killed me!"

Blood sprayed across Hotaru's face.

"You killed me!"

Blood splattered across her torso, droplets falling down and gathering between her breasts.

"You killed me! You killed me!"

Blood gushed onto her thighs.

But it wasn't her blood.

Rei's shirt was now a sick, wet crimson, nearly black across her stomach. The shirt stuck to her skin. The ends of her hair clung together with the blood. She howled and beat her arms down on Hotaru's shoulders, screaming the same phrase over and over. She gripped the girl, pressing her thumbs into the collarbone. Her eyes rolled wild around in her skull, as if they were going to dart out of the sockets. Her lips were paled pink and violent as they threw out the repetitive words against Hotaru's face, spittle racing to hit the air before the words did.

Suddenly, she gasped. Her eyes grew wide and the whites overflowed with abrupt tears.

She fell forward, leaning into Hotaru's chest. Her breath was hot and quick against her own blood and Hotaru's skin.

Then her bottom half sunk to the floor, her torso remaining in the other girl's lap.

Rei's expression was shocked, but almost serene in the ghastly moment, before pulling herself up, severed entrails sliding across Hotaru's knees. She looked into violet eyes a moment. Her eyebrows swerved back and forth between knitting sorrow and creasing hate, allowing sweat to catch the light and give her forehead sheen through the messy and wet bangs sticking to her face. She neither smiled nor frowned before lifting her face to softly kiss her lips. Through gritted teeth, she let out a growl of words.

"You fucking bitch."

Then she slid to the floor.

Hotaru stared at the dead body between her feet, her eyes fixed and wide. For the first time in what seemed like minutes, she began to breathe. Her breaths arched her chest with each intake. Her collarbone and neck muscles became more and more apparent with each one. Her breathing became shrieking gasps.

White arms wrapped themselves around her waist from behind. She was frozen in horror.

Then, the inevitable snap of bone.

Hotaru heard herself whimper as she awoke from the dream. She groaned as she rolled over, feeling the ache in her knuckles as she released the sheets from their capture. Her head throbbed to the beat behind her ribs. Strange, that the nightmares could still affect her after so long. She brushed stray hair from her eyes and looked at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. The red digital numbers read out that it was still early, and the windows read out that dawn was about to break the night wide open.

She slid her legs from under the blankets, allowing her skin to gasp at the sudden, though nearly subtle, temperature change. Her feet touched the floor gently, barely making a sound, and then padded softly to the bathroom.

The light switch flicked as she touched it and the room was illuminated. It was a tiny thing, the bathroom, with just enough room for toilet, sink, and shower. It was grungy around the edges, a little dirty here and there, but she liked the mirror. It had a white frame, badly painted over the original silver, which curved around the mirror and curling in a design at the top. There were three dark circles in the right corner, small, that refused to reflect anything anymore. Their edges were rough in shape. Hotaru knew that if she could touch them beyond the looking glass, then they would feel like sandpaper. She ran a finger along the mirror's frame, seeing her reflection doing the same.

She opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, taking out her toothbrush and toothpaste. Applying the minty gel, she set to scrubbing away a night's worth of bacterial deposits. She stared herself down as she did this, keeping her eyes on her own, as if they were two separate beasts locked in battle's approaching heat. Finished, she spat out the foam into the sink, turning on the cold water to wash it all away. She ran a comb through her hair and examined her appearance, reaching up to tame wild hairs with her fingers. She pulled her hair down and around her ears, smoothing out dark locks and making sure they were straight. Her motions slowed as she stared into her own eyes. She stopped touching her hair. She stared at herself, hands frozen in time just in front of her chest. Her eyes fixed themselves into a stare with their twins. Suddenly, she smacked her palm against the mirror, not hard enough to break the glass, but just enough for the palm to sting and tingle against the coldness. Condensation began to form around her fingers.

She let her breath out and swiped her hand across the reflecting glass, smearing the mirror's clear surface with both fingerprints and remnants of sweat.

She wouldn't allow herself to look up at the hollow counterpart as she stripped of her pajamas and set her nakedness free against the air.

She stepped into the shower.

The tiles were cold, the metal drain even colder, against the soles of her feet. She ran her toes over the smooth scratches and cracks in the tiles as she adjusted her body inside the small compartment. Her skin tightened at the chill of open air, causing goosebumps to rise up armies across her smooth flesh and making her small breasts appear even smaller with the hardening of her nipples. She had left the curtain half-open, but immediately shook it closed to perhaps capture some heat. She reached out and turned on the water. She absent-mindedly noticed mildew building up around the neck of the showerhead as she turned the knobs.

She stepped into the downpour. The water rushed upon her with fast but gentle fingers, hot but silky, like the hands of an anxiously beautiful lover. They ran over all her curves, molding themselves to fit her body, embracing her to their tightest but never letting her lose her breath.

They were the only ones who would hold her in this place. She knew that.

Under all the water and flesh and bone and blood, she silently wished for love.

As the man had said it would, the doorbell rang at eight that morning.

Hotaru was sitting on her couch, hands clasped in her lap and thighs pacing back and forth against worn material and polished wood. Her hair was freshly washed, but dry due to passing time. She could still smell the stale air under the cinnamon and sugary scent of the air-freshener. She shook off the pessimism toward her new apartment. She was nervous and picking up on things that she would normally shrug off, if they were even noticed at all.

So much time had passed. So many things left veiled and hidden from view. It had been fifteen years since that awful day and still no answers had been given other than the ones she already knew. Her destiny. Her purpose. Her solitude. She knew all these.

She was uncertain as to what was going to be held in the box, or as to whether she truly wished to open it.

She opened the door, though.

A man was on the other side.

His sunglasses hid his eyes and this bothered Hotaru. His navy blue suit was pressed and absent of wrinkles, gliding smoothly across his broad shoulders. He seemed to be absent of everything, whether it be wrinkles or a crooked tie or a signal of emotion.

"Hotaru Tomoe?"

"Yes."

"Come with me."

His voice was hard, deep and rough, with an accent on its fringes. It made her suddenly wary of where she was going.

She stepped out into the hallway, realizing that there was, in fact, two men outside her door. The other man had the same haircut, cut short and swiped to the side across his forehead. He wore the same suit as the first man, his Adam's apple protruding against his thin neck, bobbing and pressing every time that he swallowed. He remained silent.

The two men escorted her to a black car, the paint sleek and shined, the white lines of gleam running all along the body. It was a strange sight in these times. The men's power over Hotaru pressed on her shoulders like two large packs of sand, weighing down her bones but pressing her on.

She sat in the car, a man on each side. She rested her hands uncomfortably on her knees. She kept her head down the entire drive. Both she and the men were silent.

The suppressed awe of witnessing the geofront was cut short as they entered another complex, deep under the earth.

Before her stood a man. He was tall, towering over the girl, making her feel and appear even younger than she already was. He was dressed in what appeared to be a uniform, brown with stripes along the edges. His nose was strong. His wrinkles well-defined against his cheeks and eyes. His eyes were as grey as his hair, which was slicked back against his scalp, thinning along the edges.

His hands were at his sides. One held a thick manila envelope, which he extended towards Hotaru. She took it in an almost cautious manner, leaving it unopened. "Come with me," he said, turning on his heels slowly, so that she would understand, even if she hadn't heard his words.

She followed.

The woman stood over the console. The computers ran program after program without help or guidance, lights and displays blinking in an array of colors as they worked. That was both advantage and disadvantage to the MAGI system. With the exception of Dr. Akagi, no one knew the MAGI like the MAGI did. Somehow, it didn't seem strange that even computers had secrets here. Everyone else did.

Her comrades were sipping coffee on their break through the mugs that the organization had given them as a welcome gift. They talked with absent thought, random topics, like the Olympics, which were to occur in the next few months. Somehow, that was a sign that the world was relaxing again, since the tournament hadn't been held since Sydney. Maya Ibuki was in favor of the young swimmer named Rae Tsukizo. Her tones praised his last television performance with enthusiasm. Her co-workers were acting as if it was an abnormal day, one without Angels or life-threatening experiences. They seemed unaware of what was actually happening. Her thoughts swarmed in a negative cloud. She did not understand as to why there was going to be another, barely a day after what had happened with the last child. Only one word came to mind:

Treachery.

She gritted her teeth and put her cup down. She picked up the folder and glanced through it. The picture of the girl wasn't an official picture, like from a recent school's yearbook. It was like a picture from a frame, taken from a nightstand. It had another person cropped out of the photo, one who had rose-colored hair and obviously one who made the girl smile. The edges were creased in the original, and there seemed to be water damage, but these were simply scanned into this particular document copy. The information on the child was blacked out in some places, sketchy in others. The paper was covered in so much censored area and black ink that the paper rippled over the undisclosed information.

Just like Rei. Just like Kaoru.

She shut the file with haste and a frown. The hard copy was just as cryptic as the computer file, half of which was locked with a password. The Marduk report had been deemed classified. Once again, this child had been sent directly from The Committee. Were they stupid enough to pull the same stunt as before? But… there were no more Angels to be expected. In fact, in a week, NERV was expected to be disbanded. However, she was given specific instructions to brief and monitor this child, one who they called "The Sixth."

And there was something else, too. Some distant tug in the back of her brain, a small weak hand grasping at smoke rings in the dark. She didn't know what it was or why it was there, but she felt it in every time that she opened the file and looked at the picture.

What in the world was going on?

Who the hell was this girl?

Her watch signaled the hour. She boarded the elevator.

The older man had already introduced himself as Fuyutsuki. Several times, he had instructed her to pull something from the envelope and read it or hand it to him. However, this time, he slipped his hand into the package, which Hotaru clutched to her chest, pulling out a card. He ran the card through, and the machine beeped, the display changing from black to orange and reading out in Japanese characters that the card was accepted. He handed the card back to her. She took it and looked at him with a questioning expression.

"This is your security card. You must use it to enter and to exit this facility," he said.

The door, labeled Gate 13 in white paint and lined with red, whisked open and the man passed through it. Hotaru followed.

They stood in front of the elevator door and waited, their reflections bent to the silver door's twisted desires. The hum signaled that the elevator shaft was in use and someone was traveling between floors.

The woman was frowning as the door opened. The expression seemed alien to her. The slowly appearing wrinkles in her face were not those formed by a chronic frown, but she handled the look with ease nonetheless. She couldn't have been more than thirty. She held a folder and clipboard to her chest with one sleeved arm. Her bright red jacket extended to her waistline, with the sleeves down to her wrists. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder and to the middle of her breasts, curling and turning up at the ends, as she used neither hand to flip it over to her back.

"So this is the Sixth Child?"

The man behind Hotaru confirmed that this was so. The woman turned her eyes to Hotaru.

"I am Major Katsuragi. Come with me," she said.

**Author notes**:

I'm correcting my placement of Hotaru Tomoe. She is to be placed after Episode 24 and before _End of Evangelion_. "Suffocating Alice" still belongs solely to me, because of copyrights through Fiction Press.

I know that sometimes my writing can be a little cryptic in crossovers, especially to someone who is not familiar with both parties written into the story. Also, it is a little hard to write_ Sailor Moon_ characters into _Evangelion_ without sounding incredibly cheesy. However, I took up this challenge and intend on finishing it.

Some of you have expressed that you are not familiar with the character that I stole for the crossover. For more information on Hotaru Tomoe, go to my website, which includes summaries of Hotaru's appearances in the _Sailor Moon_ series along with a small gallery of pictures. My website will have information of other characters in _Sailor Moon_ if you are curious as to whom I am writing about. I will have the website available within the next few days.

Also, I am quite aware of the confusion between Rei Ayanami and Rei Hino (known in _Sailor Moon_ as Sailor Mars) that will occur, since this was stated to me by two people already. That just means that you'll have to pay closer attention to the writing. I will make it rather obvious which character is in play at the moment, but I cannot help your confusion to the obvious, if said confusion should occur.

**Songs listened to while writing**:

Nine Inch Nails – The Becoming

Smashing Pumpkins – Disarm

Rufus Wainwright – Hallelujah

Our Lady Peace – Innocent

Our Lady Peace – Thief

Metallica – Unforgiven II

Beth Hart – L.A. Song

Bruce Springsteen – The River

Bruce Springsteen – Born To Run

Orgy – Blue Monday


	4. Torn Paper Moon

**The Ashes of Wonderland**

**Part 4**

**Torn Paper Moon**

_Sliver of red for sacrifice of love_

_Seemingly stains on satin gloves_

She shuffled on the hospital bed, the paper gown loud against the air's sterility. Her feet hung nearly ten inches off the ground. This made her feel even more like a child. She curled and fanned her toes restlessly. The paper that lined the examination bed was prominently damaged due to human weight and human tread. No matter, though. It would just be rolled down when the next patient came through, fresh, new, and ready to be pillaged under the weight of the human body. It felt so foreign against the bed, which was so much like a leather car seat, like it was cutting into the very being of the examination room.

The exams were over. Finally. The embarrassment of being stripped, scanned, and processed was over. Finally. The shower had rid her of that copper smelling liquid called LCL. Finally.

It still clung to her hair, though, the scent did. Randomly, it would surface inside her nostrils. It brought an eerie feeling to the surface of her skin. It crawled across her shoulders like a heated spider on the march, back and forth. The legs were pricking her skin like ghosts would, on the verge of rubbing like mad. It reminded her of the woman. It reminded her of an evil inside her old womb. It reminded her of velvet gowns, pearl strings, and pain.

The concave of her elbow itched under the bandaid. She scratched it as best she could, careful not to pull the adhesive strips from her skin. The strips pulled, but did not detach. Curious, she pulled them away. The bit of bandage had a smear of red, brownish at the edges, and she could tell where the needle had been inserted to draw blood. The nurse had warned her not to do this, peeling it away, saying that a bruise would form. She didn't care. A tiny bruise was nothing.

Her clothes lay on a chair near the bed, folded neatly, the black shirt against the grey skirt, no tights this time, showing the world and herself that some things never seem to change, but simply rearrange. She didn't feel like putting them back on just yet. She knew they weren't warm.

The sun signaled the hour, which was past noon. It filtered in through the blinds, creating transparent stripes against the wall and floor, ones that faded from blue to dark grey. Through the slats, she could see the sun reflecting flaming-white against scratches in the glass. Masking tape and plastic covered a section, badly repaired in record time by some apathetic minimum-wage worker in this facility.

She was hungry.

-----

In another room, one with broad floors but a tight ceiling, a frown was drawn on a major's face and her body rigid, feet placed together unnaturally and hands at her sides, palms held firmly against her thighs. Carefully, her body and stance was observed over gloved knuckles and through tinted glasses. To her, the light's glare hid the eyes of the ranking officer. Oh, how she hated him, deep inside the fourth chasm of her heart. She was so sure that he had spoken out the command to take the life of, to murder, the only man she had given her spirit, no matter the carnal nature of the relationship. However, she could not reveal this to the hated man. It was her job to put on a mask of apathy, no matter how cheap the guise.

He spoke first.

"The Sixth Child… I trust her tests went well."

She responded without hesitance.

"Yes, Commander. Her synch ratio averaged at twenty-five during the plug simulation tests."

"Then she will be assigned to Unit 02 as soon as repairs are completed. She must be _fully_ briefed shortly. We cannot allow her to remain in the dark for much longer."

"Understood, sir."

"Dismissed, Major."

"But sir… what if she—"

"_Dismissed_, Major Katsuragi."

A grinding moment of silence.

"Yes, sir."

She exited the room.

The room reflected back the silence of departure with crimson walls, designs from a half-dead religion trailing one after another on both low ceiling and wide floor. The single desk made the room seem even more vast.

"Fuyutsuki…" Gendo Ikari said, addressing the man standing to his right, the man who had remained silent during the entirety of Major Katsuragi's interview.

"Yes, Commander?"

"The Old Man is up to something."

"Yes, and whatever he's doing, it is being done without our knowledge… again."

"Indeed."

"What are we going to do, Commander?"

A moment passed.

"Play along," Commander Ikari stated, his voice not taking said devious acts as threatening, "When the final act is upon us, we will throw off our masks and reveal ourselves queens, rather than pawns. These secret acts will be Keel's regrets."

"Understood."

-----

He looked in the door's window, the metal wires letting a person truly know that the door separated them both. The metal gleamed against fluorescent lighting. She was alone, sitting on the bed. The gown did truly nothing to cover the girl's curves and flesh. The white paper slit up her thigh, exposing all the way to the hip, tempting a glimpse if she moved her position even slightly. The excited tingle felt disconnected from his body, rather than from inside it, like something simply taped or slapped or glued onto him. Something foreign against himself.

She was the same girl. The same girl as before. He remembered the warmth of her flesh as his arm had grazed her back and breast. The ivory valley between them had been revealed to him as she lay there, almost frail, almost fragile. She had smelled like vanilla wafers. He wanted to fall into her, to wrap himself up in that innocent little form. Her whole body was warm. It was much warmer than the store's floor had been. It was much warmer than many things here.

But he could never touch something so nice again. He'd already destroyed something beautiful. He could no longer be trusted to care for pretty little delicate things.

_Violet eyes._

Even so…

_Pretty pouted pink lips._

It seems like maybe…

"_No… it's my fault… sorry…"_

Perhaps she could be the one to help him.

This place was binding to him. It strangled him with ghostly and ghastly hands. Unseen and unfelt, but still there nonetheless. As quiet as he kept his mouth, inside, he was screaming. A faint form inside himself was shouting from behind a foggy mirror, beating and shrieking out a thousand curses in a thousand languages. He needed someone to help him. He needed someone to relieve him of this place, to relieve him of everything.

However, perhaps, she could be the one to hinder him.

Asuka had come as well. With fiery hair and fiery Evangelion and fiery tongue, she had come. He didn't feel freedom when she came. He didn't feel the ultimate relief. Under her gaze and tone, he felt emotionally molested. She shut down all of his defenses. She tore down all his walls, leaving him in the wake to build stronger and stranger ones in hopes that she couldn't touch him anymore. She would never let spill any secret from her own past, but always seemed to split apart all mystery behind her clothing. She forced herself on him in ways he'd hoped for, but still in ways he'd never imagined and ways he almost hated.

_Her hot tongue in his mouth, running against his surprised teeth_.

His hand jerked once and then fell quiet as it lay lightly against his thigh.

He never died when Asuka came. Why should this girl be anything different? Why should she let him die when Asuka had not?

Somehow, as much as he wanted to speak with her, he did not reach for the doorknob. This place had made him destroy something or someone or love. This place had turned and sprayed Unit 01's colossal hand with crimson, color of life and the eyes. Angel eyes. Ayanami's eyes. He didn't want to touch anything inside this capsule of awful hidden beneath the earth.

"That is the Sixth Child, Shinji."

_Misato_.

She stood to his side. She did not look to him, but fixed her gaze on the same object he did, the girl.

"Her name is Hotaru Tomoe. She came here from Kyoto the day before yesterday. Her residency is six blocks from Rei's, so you can go visit her if you'd like."

_So cold_.

He knew that she was detached from herself. Her words appeared to be enthusiastic and forgetful, but, instead, were awkward in the way only a familiar person would know. He knew that she was trying to reattach herself to him, to reclaim a once-formed bond, severed through Kaoru's death, through her orders.

"I can't make you do this, Shinji. In fact, I don't want you to."

"Do what?" His words were so soft that they almost caught themselves in his throat.

She didn't answer him.

Instead, she turned the knob.

The door was opened. She stepped inside. Her shoes sounded out and quickly died as the door shut itself.

He never moved.

-----

The door had opened and Hotaru looked up. The tall form of Major Katsuragi stood in the doorway. She appeared so stiff and formal. There was a moment of silence, almost as if the Major was judging Hotaru, appraising her, determining worth in both time and character from glances. She took a breath.

"Do you know what caused Second Impact?"

The question was abrupt and unsettling. Hotaru hesitated in answering.

"They told you it was a meteor, didn't they?"

Sure. Why not? She could play along to conspiracy.

"Yes."

Major Katsuragi kept an even distance from the girl. She took another breath and began to speak, pulling out memorized words, words that seemed to have been said a thousand times to her and by her.

"The Second Impact was not caused by a meteor. It was caused by an expedition to the epicenter…"

Hotaru gripped the metal siding to the bed. Her fingers' bones felt the strain and resistance. Her eyes focused on the crack where the floor met the wall. Dirt was forming there. She ran her eyes over the entire form of the lightly caked grime, not truly taking it in, but also knowing each and every shade of color threaded into it. It was merely meant to be a distraction.

_Human mistakes_.

"A mysterious creature, called an Angel and dubbed Adam, had appeared at the South Pole…" 

_Pale white screams against a hurricane_.

"In an attempt to stop the creature, the expedition made a mistake. Disastrous results ensued, which can still be felt today…"

_The first time she saw fear in those blue eyes_.

"Even though it was horrid, it was only a fraction of what could have occurred. The entire human race could have been consumed by this creature. Instead, only a few lives were lost…"

_Blood spraying across the snow and becoming indented roses_.

"Years ago, a secret government organization was formed in order to further prevent beings like the one fifteen years ago to appear. That organization was called NERV. So far, we have seen seventeen of these creatures."

So, it wasn't as bad as what it could have been. Good. Perhaps their sacrifice had not been in complete vain.

She still wanted to tear open the hospital's preciously white wall and die in it.

Hotaru's mouth opened and she spoke.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The major's expression remained the same, as if the answer was just another recitation.

"I'm educating you on what really happened, not what the government's official reports said. You wouldn't recall what _really_ happened during Second Impact. You weren't even born yet," she pointed out.

Hotaru frowned and bit the inside flesh of her mouth, just below her lip, with her canines. She pressed against her chest with inner hands. She knew that she could not utter it. She could not breathe it. She could not think it.

But, _oh_, how she desired to counter that.

Because she did remember.

She was there.

She remembered the ground trembling.

**Author notes**:"Suffocating Alice" still belongs solely to me, because of copyrights through Fiction Press. Also, it's been said that my pacing is incredibly slow. "Why is it so slow?" they ask, in words much more polite. **_Reason_**: Time passes slower when a person is sad, lonely, or depressed. An hour can feel like multiple times that amount. Things are noticed in extreme detail, but are often forgotten. Also, it is very important that you know the mind-set of every character used. Everything described is symbolic or important in some way. As the story evolves, so will the way the chapters are written. However, things will move much quicker as the conflict picks up, around part 7.

**_Concerning updates_**: I do not know when I will be on the internet next. I am currently living in a hotel, where there is not a computer or internet access in sight. I will be trying to get onto the computer at the local college (where I am attending) as much as possible. Also, I am not sure how well I will be able to get back into the storyline. It's been nearly a year since I last updated and a lot has changed in my life for the better, so there is no longer that depression to go on whilst writing. Let's hope that I'm a decent writer and can still convey sorrow, even though I'm happy now...

**Songs listened to while writing**:

Assemblage 23 – Cocoon

Beth Hart – L.A. Song

The Eagles – Hotel California

Theatre of Tragedy – Cassandra

Stonesour – Bother

Within Temptation – Blooded

Lord of the Rings soundtrack – Forth Eorlingas, The Steward of Gondor


End file.
